


maybe i just wanna be yours

by scoutshonour



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, POV Stiles, Polyamory, Romance, post 6a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: There's not really a way out of it. He's in love with Lydia Martin and Malia Tate, and it's not like he can have them both.(or: spoiler alert: he can)





	maybe i just wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> title from arctic monkey's "i wanna be yours"
> 
> stiles/malia/lydia don't have enough stories about them, let alone enough stories about them getting together so...here ya go!
> 
> this is really random don't @ me but i like writing it and that's all that really matters

It goes like this.

Boy falls in love with girl A.

She doesn't love him back, and he eventually falls for girl B, who falls back.

Girl A eventually realizes she really loves boy all along, but it's too late.

Until it isn't.

Shit happens, and boy and girl A end up together. Girl B is forgotten about, because really, she was a plot device all along.

The en—

wait. No, this story goes a little differently. Things get messy and complicated, and it doesn't stop there.

It's a different story.

 

 

 

 

It starts like this.

Stiles is saved from the Hunt.

When he sees her, it's as easy and natural as breathing. She's sobbing, but she's beautiful. She always has been. 

It pieces together perfectly, and this is it, he thinks.  _Finally._ The long-awaited ending to their even longer story.

Kissing her is like coming home; she fits perfectly around his arms and he melts in her embrace. It's completely different and new, something that he's wanted since he was nine, something that he can't wait to figure out along her side.

It should be everything, and it is—but something's missing.

And he hates himself for even  _thinking_ it.

 

 

 

Here's the thing: he loves Lydia Martin.

He's loved her since the first day of third grade, watching her throw her head back in laughter at something Jacob Aaron's said during recess, and later that day, correcting his  _many_ math problems with a clipped tone. She'd just grabbed his sheet, fixed all of his mistakes not even because she felt bad, but because it physically pained her to look at, and returned his sheet to him without a word. 

He's fallen in love with her twice. The first one was just some silly crush manifesting itself into something stronger, somewhat obsessive. 

The second time was during the whole mess of things. When she'd broken up with Jackson, and he, well, he had to get it over his head that Lydia didn't like him one  _bit._ The girl she was when she stopped hiding her intelligence behind a facade to fit in, to be the popular princess she oh so craved, instead of  _her._ The girl who learned she was a harbinger of death and fucking owned it, saving her best friend, and instead of running away from the supernatural, stayed. 

That was the real Lydia, and he fell in love with her, too. That was a love more meaningful, more honest, more raw. 

But then, somewhere in between, Malia came in and stole his heart without even trying. She was rough around the edges, and it was all so  _easy_ with her. She was honest, open, precious, strong, and struggling to be human.  Something about her grieving and healing helped him, and together...he's not going to say she fixed him. 

But she sure as hell helped.

She was the girl who sneaked into his room at night to spoon him, who'd manage to leave an 'M' shaped imprint on his neck with her teeth, who sat through the entirety of the Star Wars' saga because he liked the series (not without her complaints, but she still sat through it), who stole most of his sweaters and shirts, and who held him whenever he woke up sobbing with nightmares or panic attacks. 

She slowly became his girlfriend, then his best friend, until—

they were nothing at all.

He's aware of how fucked up it is, how fucked up  _he_ is to want her, even after he broke up with her, after he left her in that car with tears pooling in her eyes all because—what? Things were  _hard_?  They faced a rough patch, and he just—God, he just  _left her._ And even now, he's dating the girl of his dreams, and he still wants her.

He hasn't even talked to her, hasn't even looked her in the eye since he returned, because he knows when he looks into her eyes, that rich brown that always saw right through him, he'll actually be able to see regret. 

He's happy with Lydia, but a part of him still desperately yearns for Malia. 

There's not really a way out of it. He's in love with Lydia Martin and Malia Tate, and it's not like he can have them both.

 

 

 

 

They're studying together in Lydia's room. It's been ages since he's been here, and it mostly looks the same. She's taken down pictures, cleaned it more, somehow. It's always,  _always_ tidy, which he finds admirable, considering his room always resembles a garbage dump.

"You are going to kick your Physics exam's ass," Lydia says confidently, pulling out a textbook and a notebook from his backpack as he continues to study her bedroom. "I took this course last year, and if you put in the time, it'll be a breeze," she continues, and he joins her on her bed, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her hair.

She freezes at the contact, and Stiles starts to profusely apologize, mistaking that he'd done something wrong, until she spins around and steals his breath with a kiss. His hands find her waist and he instinctively rolls over, feeling like a king when she moans. She's so breathtakingly beautiful, and he wants her to know it, wants her to feel as beautiful as he sees her—wants to show it, too. He intertwines their fingers and kisses her neck, until it's all teeth, and she lets out a pretty little incantation of his name.

_Shit._

He moves in to kiss her again on the mouth, aching for any part of her honestly, but she grabs his chin and holds him there, tight, before he can reach her mouth. "Not so fast,'" she rasps, her breath hitched and mouth curved into a slight smirk. "Physics, remember?"

Physics!? Really? "I care more about your orgasm than an exam that's three weeks away." She's still holding his face, and he doesn't mind, because her hands are warm, and, well, because it's her. "Priorities and all."

Lydia scoffs, leaning forward to wipe some of her smudged lipstick off of Stiles' mouth. "I wouldn't care too, but unlike the rest of your class, you missed a lot of school since, you know, you disappeared out of existence. Give me an hour and then you can happily shove your head between my thighs."

He quickly sits up, more excited than ever to learn about gravitational forces.  Lydia smirks again from next to him, flipping open to the first chapter he'd missed.

The hour takes it's damn time, but it eventually passes. The only things that make studying tolerable is the fact that she's here and that he'll get to go down on her afterwards, and it's a damn near miracle he can focus when that prospect is so very real in his mind.

Lydia shuts the book, actually tosses it onto her bedroom floor without a care, and gives him this  _look._ Her eyes are narrowed, she's licking her lips, and she has an eyebrow arched.

"Oh, wow, can I—do I just—"

"C'mere, idiot," she says with an exasperated look that he wants more than ever to wipe off her face.

Sometime later, Stiles plops himself next to her, retrieving his hand from Lydia's left breast and basks in that post-sex glow. They're both sweating and their skin is sticky and moist, but he snuggles up next to her anyway, lazily laying an arm around her waist, despite how hot he feels. Her hip presses against his chest, and his hand inadvertently touches her breast, but it's not sexual. Their clothes lay forgotten on her floor, and his only wish is that her mother doesn't miraculously come home early today.

"That...easily beat all of my dreams," Stiles shamelessly admits, feeling nothing but calm, curled up with the woman he loves.

"Me too," she hums, and he's officially on Cloud Nine. 

He lifts his head up to kiss her forehead gently, but can't help the surge of guilt when she looks at him with utter adoration, because she's not the only one on his mind. And yes, he hasn't cheated, hasn't even talked to Malia, but she's always in the back of his mind, still has this hold on his heart he doesn't understand. She'd transfixed him the moment they'd met in Eichen, when her greeting consisted of a fist swinging right at him. Though they haven't actually  _talked_ since, he's seen her. They're still in the same group of friends, still go to the same school. Their worlds still orbit each other, even though he wants more.

He can't keep withholding the truth from her. 

Lydia's mouth creases into a frown, a look of worry tainting the former content look. "Stiles, what's wrong?"  Her voice is laced with concern, and she reaches out to touch his arm.

Stiles can't believe he's about to ruin the best thing in his life, but he needs to say it, needs to get it out there. She knows him better than he knows himself and she's bound to figure it out, anyway.

He breathes in and out a few times, trying and failing miserable to remain calm as he prefaces, "You know I love you, right?"

Lydia's face whitens. "You're—you're scaring me, what is it? Hey, hey— _look at me._ " 

"I think I'm still in love with Malia."

Once the words leave his lips and are out in the air, it feels like the weight of a million suns have been lifted off of his back. Lydia's face is unreadable. She doesn't say anything at first, just carries this deep look of contemplation, remaining still in her spot, half-sitting, torso slightly slumped forward. 

Millions of scenarios run through his mind. None of them end well.

He doesn't know what he expects her to say, but it's not this.

"I kissed Malia when you were gone."

His mind blanks. Completely blanks. He forgets how to speak, think,  _function,_ and all he can imagine is Malia and Lydia. Kissing. What—? It's never even processed that they would experience anything other than platonic feelings for each other, and he tries to imagine it. Shit, it'd be pretty beautiful.

He can imagine Malia just leaning in easily, pressing her mouth against Lydia's, and the shocked squeak before she'd lose herself the same way Stiles has over the pure electricity that is Malia Tate.

Until—

"Hold on,  _you_ kissed  _her?_ "

Lydia's cheeks flush to an unmistakable red, an undeniable blush overcoming her. She's flustered. "Look, it was the heat of the moment, okay!? You were gone, I—I wasn't having a great time, you know! I was freaking out, and we were alone, in her room, and I started to hyperventilate and she was just—there. Not physically there, but there for me. She held me until I calmed down, and she was so close. I could feel her breath against my face, and she looked so  _pretty._ I went for it. She kissed me back and we made it to her bed,  before she heard her dad coming back, and we never talked about it."

It takes every possible image he can imagine of his great aunt Beatrice in the shower to refrain from sprouting a boner right then and there. 

His straightness aside, he can't help but ask, "So does that mean...I mean...fuck it, do you like Malia, too?" He's never really imagined what their relationship—platonic or romantic—would be like. It's his fault, to only think of them in terms of himself, he thinks. They would complement each other, polar opposites who would work perfectly. 

Lydia's breath catches in her throat and she digs her teeth unto her lips, looking like she'd done it hard enough to draw blood. He's never seen her  _this_ nervous, and he doesn't have to be a werewolf to know that she is. That her heartbeat must be rapid and beating like crazy. 

"I didn't  _plan on it._ It just...happened. She's—I mean, she's her. It's impossible not to fall for her."

Stiles feebly smiles, reaching out to cup her face. "I know what you mean."

There's a long silence, but it doesn't feel heavy. They share this look, and in that moment, he knows she's not mad. It'd be the literal definition of hypocrisy, but she's not mad, and that relieves him. 

As much as he likes staring into the intense emerald of her eyes, he can't stand the silence. "So we both like the same girl."

Lydia actually begins to laugh, and at first, it's a quiet tittering until she's bending over with laughter.

"I'm sorry, it's just," she tries to say through uneven breaths, as he stares at her, perplexed, "of course! Of course we like the same girl, because we can't ever be  _normal,_ right? Kanimas, werewolves, alphas, druids, dread doctors, and—and this!"

"Honestly, this is probably the most normal thing that's ever happened to us." Stiles manages a laugh, and it feels good to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"We're still okay, right?" 

"Are you asking if I'm still absolutely in love with you and would want nothing else but to be with you? Because the answer is yes. Always." There's never been a doubt in his mind of staying with Lydia. He doesn't believe that his feelings for Malia lessens or weakens his feelings for Lydia, because they  _don't._ He'd meant what he said to her in his Jeep before he was gone, and everything since.

She smiles warmly, pressing her forehead against his, until their noses brush and they're a breath apart.  "Good." She grabs his hand and guides it towards her chest, Stiles spluttering against her mouth when he gently grabs her breasts. She slides on top of him until she's straddling his lap, grinding until he's hard. It doesn't take long.

"Mm, is this how Malia would touch you?" She asks, running her fingers along the head of his cock.

"Mff— _Lydia!_ "

"She was really strong when she kissed me...before we ended up on her bed, she'd sort of just  _pushed_ me up against her wall, and it was insanely hot. Made for a great dream, too."

This only feels slightly weird, but Lydia keeps rocking against him and rubbing him the way he likes. The way she's talking about Malia only adds fuel to the fire, and it doesn't take long—a few more mentions of Malia, deliberately slow strokes, and the feel of Lydia against him—until he comes undone in her hand.

God, she really knows how to ruin him.

 

 

 

Malia becomes a part of their sex-life by accident.

It's not like they needed it, because the sex was good to start with, but ever since Lydia brought her up that one time and the explosive (pun not intended) way it made him feel, it just sort of stuck.

"Is it weird? What we're doing with Malia?"

"What're we doing with Malia?" Lydia asks, face in her hands on Stiles' bed. It reminds him eerily of that Halloween and he fights back a lopsided grin at how much has changed. For the better, he adds to himself, trying not to linger on how a part of him still longs for Malia. 

And while he feels a lot better about telling Lydia and that she actually has the same problem as him, it still feels...empty. Like something is missing. It's so frustrating, monogamy, he thinks, frustrated. He wants Lydia and Malia, Lydia wants him  _and_ her, too, and it shouldn't be this difficult.

 _It doesn't have to be,_  a small voice in the back of his mind says, but dating is only for two people. 

It wouldn't work, anyway.

He sits on his desk, swinging his feet back and forth out of habit. "She's, like, an avid part of our sex life."

"We're not hurting anyone," she says, and he figures she's right. "I've been thinking and I think you should talk to Malia."

" _What_ —" Stiles says, his voice embarrassingly a few octaves higher than usual, closer to a shriek. He doesn't know what she's thinking, but he knows that there's no way Malia would want anything to do with him, not after the crap he's pulled. It sounds like a terrible idea, even if he misses her, terribly. "Why?" 

Lydia shrugs. "You love her. You miss her. You've also orgasmed about a dozen times to vivid—"

"Okay," he suddenly hisses, "okay. You're right, but...would she  _even_ want to talk to me? How would I go about it, anyway? Just casually start talking and hope she wouldn't deck me in the face?"

Lydia gives him a pointed look, like he's being ridiculous. She gives him that look often.  "Apologies go a long way. And not to be self-centered, but I'm tired of seeing you look like a kicked puppy whenever you look at her, and  _yes,_ I notice," she says with a signature Martin smile, knowing and reaching her eyes. "I know you miss her."

"Would you...I mean, would you be okay with that? You wouldn't be  _jealous_ or anything?"

She snorts, closing the magazine in her hands. "I trust you, Stiles," she says clearly, "and it's my dream to see you two fucking."

Lydia really knows how to leave him dumbstruck.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" He screeches, utterly bewildered. What, does she assume that they'll fuck? That Malia would even want him back in the first place? Does she not find her playing matchmaker with her own boyfriend strange in the slightest!? "Lydia, seriously, what the fuck?"

Lydia stands up, placing a hand on his chest to calm him down. "I probably shouldn't have said it like that," she muses, and he scoffs. "Look, I did some research."

"How shocking," he interjects, smiling despite himself.

She glares at him, and he tugs her close by the waist, purely for the affection, his hands circling the small of her back. "Polyamory is very much a thing, you know. It's not as common as monogamy, but it's very real, and something we could consider. Dating Malia. The both of us. If she wants us, that is," she adds almost nervously. 

Polyamory. It sounds technical, and the actual idea of it sounds complicated. Dating  _two_ people at the same time? 

It's not exactly normal, but he figures nothing in his life is normal. If it makes him happy, then does it really matter?

"Oh, she'd want you for sure, if you're worried," he says, noticing the abrupt shift in her demeanor. "Hey, hey, I do this with you, okay? You and me, we're a set. It's both of us or nothing."

"Both of us or nothing," Lydia echoes, and there's this faraway look in her eyes. She's like that, sometimes. When she can see right through him, sometime she puts up this wall. He supposes it might be a defense, something she was used to with Jackson, ready to let go of with Aiden until his sudden death, and something she's trying to do with him. Love's never been her forte, he knows, and he's going to be patient. He won't push until she's ready, and they have time. 

They stand like this, until Lydia kisses him fervently. "Let's watch something, like maybe—"

"The Notebook?"

"You know me too well."

 

 

 

They both figure it's best if he tries to ease back into Malia's life by himself. Lydia and her are on decent terms, she says, the only wall between them Stiles, and it'll be something they can knock down if he can get through this. 

She's staying with Derek in his den for a few weeks. Her dad's out of town, something about the death of his sister, Scott told him. It's not like Malia needs to be alone, she handled eight years in the wild, surely she can handle three weeks, but he figures she might just want the company.

Something in his chest pangs. If he hadn't ended things like an idiot, if he hadn't—he stops himself. Thinking so negatively is redundant, and it won't help if he's going to try and make things right. 

Derek's not home. He made sure of it with dozens of annoying texts to Cora, who only answered to get him to stop messaging her. She's not home either, off somewhere with Boyd, and it eases some of Stiles' nerves.

Before he can raise his fist to knock, the door swings open, and Malia stands before him. Her hair's grown out a bit, just past her shoulders, and she's wearing a plaid shirt and shorts. "Derek and Cora aren't home," she snaps, quickly sliding the door shut, and Stiles manages to wedge his foot in between the space before the door can shut. He kicks it open, stepping in before she can try closing it again.

"Please hear me out?"

She only stares, and he hates sometimes how she can always tell how he's feeling, but she can easily mask her feelings. He doubts she feels as blank as her expression is, and he wishes, he  _wishes_ he could just understand her. Or that she'd be shittier at hiding her emotions. 

"Five minutes."

Her growl is unwavering, but he's not deterred. If anything, it makes him grin, because it's so  _Malia_ of her.

"I was ridiculous to think I could last without you in my life. I'm so ridiculously sorry about how I treated you, because you—you deserve the world, okay? And the sun and the stars and—and everything. Life without you is good, yeah, but it isn't the same. Mal, I...I  _need_ you." He sounds desperate to his own words, but he  _is_ desperate; hell, he's about one second away from plopping down onto his knees to beg for forgiveness.

Malia's face tightens, and she bites down on the insides of her cheeks. "What do you want from me?"  She asks bluntly in this strained voice he's not used to hearing from her.

Always straight to the point. "I want to be your—" he stops himself. "Friend.  _Please._ " 

"You smell terrible," she says after an eternity of silence stretches out between them, and she steps closer towards him. For half a beat, he thinks she's going to kiss him, but she sniffs him. "Stop being so anxious. It's killing my mood."

"Killing my mood?" 

Malia shrugs. "Cora says it." 

"So..." Stiles fiddles with his fingers, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  He feels antsy. "Are we...I mean, do you accept my apology?"

She swallows thickly. "I'm still  _really_ mad at you," she says, her voice cracking, and something in Stiles' chest twists, "and—and I'm not going to act like I don't feel  _weird_ seeing you and Lydia together, you with your head in her lap and holding her face and—and—and it's weird, okay? Weird for me, but—" Malia lets out a resigned, defeated sigh. "For some stupid reason, I still care about you.  _And_ Lydia. Being friends with you is better than completely losing you, and after everything, it'd be pretty fucking stupid if something as dumb as jealousy got in the way of that."

He's never heard her babble, never heard her sound so frustrated and confused in his life. It makes him want to hold her, wrap her up in a blanket, give her hot cocoa, just do something other than his current response of staring at her with a hanging jaw. Because she admitted she was jealous, because she still...shit. 

Shit.

"Can I hug you?"

Her head is mid-nod before he strides towards her anyway, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder. He  _missed_ this. He missed touching her, the vanilla scent of her hair, being in her arms, being with her. It'd been too long. Their beak-up felt like eons ago, and he'd remembered everything afterwards, before the Hunt, feeling so...grey. 

Lydia brought back color, and Malia's brought saturation, brightness.

"I missed you," she says into his arm.

"I missed you, too. And I'm serious, I'm so fucking sorry for what I—"

"Stop talking," she interrupts, dragging him towards the arrays of couches. "Sit."

He sits on the other end of the long couch in Derek's living room, hesitantly inching forward. He's only ever known Malia as his girlfriend. They've never done  _friends_ before.

Malia looks at him curiously, eyebrows furrowed together in thought. "Is Lydia okay with this?"

"Yeah, she's...she's actually the one who mentioned it. Said it'd make me feel better."

"Oh." She ducks her head slightly, and he wonders if she's thinking about their kiss. He wants to ask, but she'll think something is going on, and they're not there yet. "I'm happy for you guys. You two look very good together."

Because he's an idiot he says, "You spend a lot of time looking at us?" 

He doesn't expect the color rising to her cheeks and the way she struggles to speak coherently, visibly flustered.  "Shut up. You're supposed be thanking me for being a very wise ex-girlfriend."

"Really?"

She nods, lifting a leg up and crossing her legs comfortably. She turns until she's directly facing him. "Yup."  

The air between them feels light, and he's glad. 

"I never got to thank you. For helping save me, I—"

"Stop."

"Seriously, Mal, I really—"

"Broken up or not, I've always got you," she says solemnly and seriously. "So stop thanking me before I kick you out."

Stiles' mouth curves upwards. "Understood."

 

 

 

He manages to convince Malia to come over to Lydia's house to hang out, just the three of him. She's convinced it'll be awkward and she'll third-wheel, and she doesn't want to intrude, but Stiles annoys her continuously and Lydia can be very persuasive, so she comes over the weekend before exams begin.

Stiles tells her to bring her books because Lydia will force them to study, anyways. Stiles isn't all that concerned; he's already been accepted to NYU and all he needs is a passing grade, and Malia's got the hang of studying, but he brings his school things with regardless.

Stiles is already in Lydia's bedroom when Malia arrives. He has his hand up her skirt and her mouth against his when they hear the doorbell chime, and she's almost there.

" _Stiles,_ if you remove your hand, I swear," she gasps, bucking against his hand for friction. 

"Malia's at the door," he says incredulously, but he doesn't stop the motion of his fingers, even if he's starting to sweat. Malia can hear them, can't she— _oh._ "You're such a dick," he smirks, not really that surprised. "Come on now," he pants, and slips his other hand there, thanking every God he can think of for the existence of the clitoris. With a few sloppy strokes, she cries out, and Stiles is pretty sure that Malia could hear her even if she didn't have super-hearing abilities. 

The doorbell rings a few more times, and he can picture how irritated Malia must be. He feels somewhat bad, but figures that soon enough, she'll be on this bed, too—if things go well, that is.

Malia has a hand on her hip, head cocked to the side, and an exasperated look on her face when they open the door.  "Seriously?" 

Stiles gives her a  _what can you do_ look and Lydia merely shrugs, looking unapologetic. "I tried to finish quickly," she says, not even trying to hide it.

"I hope you didn't mind," Stiles says, his words carrying a semblance of an apology, something that Lydia refuses to do. 

Malia doesn't look that annoyed anymore, licking her lips. "I didn't. It was kind of hot, actually." And she pushes past them, walking inside while Lydia and Stiles have yet to pick their jaws up from the floor.

 

 

 

Studying goes as expected when you have Malia and Lydia in the mix. Lydia tries to teach Malia concepts for her  _final_ math exam, because she doesn't really need to study, and she's so bored and uninterested. Stiles isn't paying attention to any of the material in his hands for his philosophy final, too amused by their interactions.

"Malia, focus," Lydia scolds.

"Lydia, I don't care."

"Do you want to fail?"  

"Yes, Lydia, I do want to fail, and be held back in my final year of high school." Malia slaps the book shut. "Look, I checked, and to finish this course, I need a fifty-two on the—"

Lydia glowers at Malia, poking her foot with her own. "You are not going to barely pass this class. At least finish this set of questions and then we can stop." 

Stiles waits for Malia's protests, for her to continue being a stubborn ass, but is shocked when she reluctantly opens up the textbook and waits for Lydia to assign a set for her to start. She'd always put up a fight with Stiles, and only after did Stiles promise sex or pizza would she comply with his efforts to get her to do work.

He meets Lydia's eyes when she gets up to go to the washroom and winks. "Good job, babe,"  he mouths, and she blows him a kiss.

"You guys must have sex here a lot."

"What?" 

"I said, you guys must have sex here a lot," she repeats louder,  giving him a puzzled expression as though she's confused with his own confusion. "It reeks of it," she explains, and wow, okay, werewolves can  _smell_ sex? 

He nods, not sure what else to do. "See, this isn't that weird, is it? You're enjoying yourself!"

"Stiles, I'm doing math. This is literal hell," she deadpans, and yeah, he sees her point. "But I guess being here with you and Lydia isn't all that bad."

 

 

 

Malia finishes the questions and Lydia squeals in delight, because they're all correct. 

"Let's get out of here," she decides gleefully, "we can take a well-deserved break, and celebrate this math genius over here." Lydia nudges Malia who's laying stomach-down on her bed.

"Please, you're the math genius here. You're going to win  _every_ single award possible, and go down in history for like, the most Nobel Prizes won."

Lydia beams, and opens her mouth to speak, but Stiles cuts her to it.

"Fields Medal," he says, looking at Lydia with nostalgia and pride in his eyes, "she's going to win a Fields Medal. That's the award for maths."

Lydia ducks her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Let's get ice cream."

They leave their backpacks in Lydia's house, and shuffle to their feet, get out the front door. It's the afternoon, the sun's still out, and they have the entire day before them. A lot can happen in a day, and he intends for that to hold true today.

He sees an unfamiliar car parked in Lydia's driveway and Malia striding towards it. "Wait, you can drive?"

"I got my licence a few months ago. C'mon, let me take you guys!"

Lydia looks mortified at the prospect of driving with Malia but holds her tongue, calling dibs on the front seat, much to Stiles' chagrin. He unhappily sits in the back, but sits at the very edge to remain as part of the conversation as possible. Malia's absolutely excited to drive them to a nearby parlor, and it's as precious as it sounds.

She's not a terrible driver, by any means. Stiles does find himself holding on for dear life at some very sharp turns and when she drives too quickly.

"Malia," Lydia says through a manic laugh, "please, for the love of God, _slow down._ "

"Yeah, I swear, if I die in a car crash out of all the shit that's happened to me, that'd be the  _definition_ of irony!"

Malia rolls her eyes, but does as asked, eventually going under the speed limit, clearly unhappy about it. "You guys are lame."

"Caring about safety is not lame," Lydia huffs, looking at Malia whose eyes remain fixed on the road. Stiles watches this, and there's something intimate about the way she looks at her.

Stiles knows it should feel weird. He should feel the pull of jealousy. But he doesn't.

"Come on, I won't kill either of you. I've saved your asses a lotta times, and I'm sure as hell not going to be the ones to put you in danger."

They reach the parlor shortly, only to find that it's mostly empty. They lounge in an empty booth, Lydia sitting next to Stiles, and Malia on the opposite side. He starts to snake an arm around Lydia out of habit and because he likes innocent touching, but then he sees Malia clearly avert this, staring at her lap with a storm in her eyes, and quickly pulls back. From underneath the table, they lace fingers, and that's fine for him.

He's taken both Malia and Lydia on dates here before. With Malia, they hadn't thought of it as a date, until half-way through, and both of them argued intensely about who would pay.  _Oh, so just because you're a boy that means you have to take care of me? Because I can't deal with a seven dollar bill?_ Malia had said fiercely, and Stiles, naturally, had no idea what to say. With Lydia, it'd been right after their grand kiss, and they'd split the bill.  _Feminism,_ Lydia had said, refusing to let Stiles pay the entire bill.

Lydia and Malia both starkly contrast each other, but their stubbornness is the same.

The sundae names are ridiculously long and mostly puns. Stiles and Malia have fun, laughing and giggling over the various names and their ridiculousness, while Lydia shakes her head, muttering about how they're children.

"You  _love_ it." Stiles grins, poking her sides relentlessly, grinning even harder when she squirms and laughs.

She tells him he's an idiot and their mouths meet in the middle for a kiss. Stiles freezes against her when he becomes acutely aware that Malia's watching them and he has half a mind to pull away, but he's a little shit who likes teasing, so he plays it out, bites down on Lydia's lips to elicit a groan.

"Sorry 'bout that," Stiles says cockily, unable to keep from smiling.

Lydia's lipstick is smudged and her hair is slightly tousled, and God, Stiles doesn't think he'll never  _not_ like seeing her disheveled because of him. It makes him incredibly smug, which always annoys Lydia, but he thinks she'll make an exception now.

Malia's cheeks are red.  _Mission accomplished._ "No—no worries. Hi, yeah, can we order please?"  Her voice is tight and different, and she avoids their eyes.

Lydia's hand rests on his thigh and squeezes gently. Their plan is working.  

Their sundaes arrive and Lydia takes what feels like ten years, taking pictures with her phone. Stiles and Malia are both displeased and waiting impatiently to dig into their desserts.

"Lydia, I want to eat my sundae," Malia grits out, growling. "This is taking forever."

"Just give me two sec— _Stiles!_ " 

Lydia hisses when Stiles takes a spoonful of his sundae anyways, because unlike Malia, he's immune to the scoldings of Lydia Martin. "Yes?" He says innocently, ice cream surely coating his lips.

She rolls her eyes, shoving him with her elbow. "You're terrible," she says, but her smile suggests she thinks otherwise.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Not sure why, but—Malia!" 

Malia looks up at Lydia's shriek, her mouth full of her strawberry sundae, eyes gone wide. "What!? If Stiles can do it, why can't I?" 

Pretty sound logic to him.

"Isn't this what equality is all  _about_ —"

"Okay, that's not what I mean at all when I talk about rights and lack of intersectionality in feminism and police bru—" Lydia cuts herself off. "I appreciate the effort, though." 

Malia smiles, and Lydia looks so whipped and enamored, it takes everything within Stiles to not tease her right then and there.

Lydia then complains about their lack of patience, and everyone finally digs in. Stiles is blissful, because a, this sundae is fucking fantastic, and b, he's with two girls he's in love with. Things aren't as awkward as he'd presumed, and he's so immensely relieved. He stops himself from getting too optimistic, though, and setting high expectations. Optimism, hope, they've always led him to the inevitable ending of disappointment. And Malia not wanting them would not only be disappointing, but crushing, and he's not going to dwell on that.

"You have a little, uh...On your nose..."

She tries to lick it off, but it's too far up her nose for her tongue to reach, so Stiles leans forward to rub it off instead with his index finger.

"You're too cute," Lydia coos, and Stiles is momentarily flabbergasted, because Lydia does not coo. 

It occurs to him he's never really seen her like this, where she's trying to get someone. They didn't pine, or at least like this, their coming together not as typical. Flirting Lydia is something new, and she's persistent, he realizes.

Malia's eyebrows shoot up, bewildered, but she doesn't say what she's obviously thinking:  _Lydia, your boyfriend is right there._ "Th—thanks?"  She stammers out instead, looking pleasantly surprised. She glances at Stiles, who beams.

Stiles can't wait until they get back to Lydia's place.

 

 

 

They leave ten minutes later, Lydia convincing them all to let her pay. Malia insists on driving and Stiles sprints to the front seat before Lydia can call it again. Malia's more careful this time, less swerving and more smooth turns. He can tell she hates having to be safe, but does it anyway from their insistence.

Malia must've chosen a random station, because a French song plays, and none of them speak French.  

"Change the station," Lydia insists.

"No, your music taste is terrible." He can stand Jaque Bon-Whatever, but not the trash that Lydia likes. He loves her, yeah, but she likes shitty songs.

"Stiles—"

" _Lydia—_ "

"Oh my God, shut up," Malia groans, "both of you, shut up." She changes the station and Lydia is momentarily victorious until it turns out to be a heavy metal station that vibrates throughout the entire car. Malia's totally into it and unfazed by how loud it is. Lydia's clearly not used to the music and Stiles just watches Malia, mostly shocked that she knows all the words to this Led Zeppelin song and is singing along.

They decide on watching a movie in Lydia's living room, since she has Netflix and bags of untouched popcorn.

"When's your mom coming home?"  Malia asks, grabbing a cup of water for herself. 

"She's visiting my grandma for the weekend, so don't worry about that."

They end up on the same couch, Stiles seated directly between Lydia and Malia. They play some random horror movie on Netflix, the rating at fifteen percent on Rotten Tomatoes, so they know there's not going to be anything actually scary or that hits too close to home. It's only six, and they still have time.

About a third into the film, Lydia squeezes Stiles' crotch and he clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from moaning. Malia's watching the movie and eating all the popcorn, and he's not about to let her see this.

 

She continues her tactics, nipping at his ear, and he lets out a muffled noise. Malia turns to look at them, startled by the noise, and she grabs the remote and pauses the film.

"Are you two seriously going to keep doing this? I know you're purposely doing this. The kiss in the parlor, when Lydia came when I got here, and this." 

Stiles starts to apologize, but Lydia puts a hand on his chest and he shuts up. She has an idea, and he's pretty sure he knows what she's going to do, and he trusts her; they're a team like that.

"And we know that you're catching on, aren't you?" Lydia drawls, leaning across of Stiles to Malia. "You know, but you're waiting for us." 

"I don't wait for other people," Malia says, and there's this certainty, this confidence that wasn't there before. "I just...needed to make sure..."

Stiles doesn't know who kisses who, but suddenly, they're  _kissing_  over him. He has no choice but to watch, not that he'd look away if he could, and he's thought about it dozens of times, but nothing can compare to reality.  

He doesn't feel jealous.  It doesn't feel weird seeing them kiss, instead sending this warmth to his heart, and  God, they're pretty.  Lydia grabs Malia's shirt and yanks her closer and she looks like she's going to fall into Stiles' laps, but she gracefully plants herself on his lap, if not a little unstably. Her hand shoots out and nearly hits his face until it finds his hand. 

She squeezes.

He squeeze back.

"Fuck," Lydia says breathlessly, eyes meeting Stiles. She looks euphoric.

"And  _you,_ " Malia says, tilting her head and body to Stiles. She hooks both of her legs around his waist, until they're pressed against each other. "Where have you been?"

"Trying not to basically die from seeing you two kiss. And partly dying because of how much I fucking missed you, Mal."

She snorts out a delighted laugh, reaching out to pull him closer by his neck. "C'mere," she murmurs, slowly enveloping him into a kiss.

It's familiar, it's good, it's the final puzzle piece clicking together. He slides his fingers into her hair, grateful to have her back.

"Are we really doing this?"  Malia asks, looking hesitantly between Stiles and Lydia.

"If you want us," Lydia says softly.

"Is that even a  _question?_ " Malia presses her mouth against Lydia's again, very clearly and plainly dismissing any of their doubts. This is really happening, he thinks, as Lydia tugs uselessly at his shirt.

"Off. Now," she grunts, already working on pulling Malia's shirt over her head.

Yeah, this is happening now.

 

 

 

The sex isn't as awkward as he expected. There's a lot of fumbling and a lot of questions.  _Is this okay, are you sure, can I, do you want me to,_ etc, which is a good thing. They focus most of their attention on Malia, and he doesn't mind that Lydia spends most of her time on Malia. He's been with both girls before, and watching them is exhilarating.  

They eventually took it to Lydia's bedroom because the couch doesn't accommodate to three people, a lesson learned when Lydia tries to sit on Malia's face while Stiles eats her out and falls off in the process.

"So that was fun,"  Stiles breathes, Malia's head bobbing up. She wipes her lips, inches forward to press her lips against his, before planting down in between Stiles and Lydia. "Thanks," he says in a dazed voice.

Malia laughs. "You're right, he is funny after sex," she says to Lydia. "And yeah. That was fun. That...that wasn't a one-time thing, right?"

"No, no, of course not," Stiles says quickly, tilting her chin up. "We want you and we want it all."

"The whole package," Lydia adds, laying a hand flat against Malia's stomach. "The three of us, that can be something real."

"Hell," Malia starts to say, reaching out to grab Lydia's hand, leaning forward to kiss Stiles. "It already is."

The trio take in the post-orgasm bliss, and Malia snakes an arm around Stiles' waist. Lydia curls inside of his arms, and Malia's leg hooks around the both of them. It's a little uncomfortable, because they're all so close and Lydia's elbow juts into his stomach and Malia's knees dig into his thighs, but it's still good.  

This relationship—this new, blossoming, blooming thing between the three of them, is uncharted territory.  _Three_ _people?_  And so close to graduation too. But they've been through worse and distance, time, and normalcy are nothing compared to the monsters they've faced before. He knows that they'll find a way and figure it out. 

A banshee, a werecoyote, and a human—because  _fuck_ conventional.

 

 

 

 

In this version, the boy gets both girls. The girls fall for each other, too.

Told you this story was different.

Because who said he had to choose?

**Author's Note:**

> my response to all the stydia and stalia discourse that started way back in 2014, because fuck ship wars. threesomes have always been my go to solution for love triangles, except for maybe TVD, because incest. there's not a lot of these three, which is surprising, and i love me some polyamory. 
> 
> i guess i've also been super salty about the finale, and season six in general, but what else is new?


End file.
